I And Love And You
by Lugian Before Swine
Summary: Series of M/M oneshots inspired by the songs from the album "I And Love And You" by The Avett Brothers. Each chapter can be read independently from the others, but together they'll make up the whole album. Various genres and POVs, but it's all M/M. Currently rated for mild language.
1. I And Love And You

**A/N: This is a project I've been wanting to do for a while, I was just waffling over which album to use. I think this one fits nicely. So, each chapter will be inspired by a song on the album, and I plan to do the whole thing in order. There will be lyrics from the corresponding song at the beginning of each chapter, which will hopefully "set the mood" for the oneshot. I encourage you to listen to the track that corresponds with the chapter before, during, or after reading! Thanks for reading this ridiculously long A/N and I hope you enjoy the fic!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note and no disrespect is intended.**

**Genre: Friendship/Angst**

_One foot in and one foot back/But it don't pay to live like that/So I cut the ties and jumped the tracks […] When at first I learned to speak/I used all my words to fight/With him and her and you and me/But it's just a waste of time_

Mello is remembering.

A more sentimental person might call it 'reminiscing', but Mello is not sentimental (or at least, he tries very hard not to be.)

There's no order to the memories that flit through his consciousness. He's taking a much-needed, albeit short, break from working on the Kira case, due to the demands of his annoying—he supposes Matt is his _best friend_—who informed him that he looked horrible and was probably gonna die from exhaustion if he didn't give it a rest, to use Matt's own words.

Mello was going to retort with a biting remark about the current state of his face, and how that certainly wasn't helping his overall appearance, but then Matt _looked_ at him, and for some reason it made Mello shut up.

That was a very recent memory. Most of the others are older. They come to him seemingly of their own volition, as Mello is in no mood to get misty-eyed over his past. So he lies on the unmade bed and passively remembers. The emotions are what come through the strongest, and every memory seems to be tinged with an emotional aura, of sorts. There is anger, and sadness, and jealousy, and worry, but there is also happiness, and sometimes there's a vibrant cloud of mixed feelings, pulsating and incomprehensible.

Pinpointed moments mix in with sweeping swaths of time to produce when Near beat Mello on a test for the 14th time. When Mello kicked a soccer ball into some poor boy's face (completely on accident, although no one believed him.) Sitting down in the dining hall for lunch time and time again. A flickering image of a woman's outstretched hand. Hours upon hours of life spent locked in his room, studying as if his life depended on it (and in a way, it did.) Seeing the world tinted orange for the few brief seconds before his untrusting fellow orphan snatched his goggles back and ran away.

As if the thought summoned his presence, the door swings open with a creak and Matt steps in, carrying a plastic bag.

"Well, well, well," he says smugly as he spots Mello lying on the bed, "look who actually listened to me for once."

Mello sits up and stares at him, not bothering to reply to the haughty comment. Instead, he asks, "What's in the bag?"

"Food!" Matt says brightly. "Real food, made of things other than sugar and diabetes."

Like Matt has any room to talk, Mello thinks, but he's interested nonetheless, because it has been a while since he's had a proper meal. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and moves to sit at the tiny table in the corner of the room. Matt sits across from him, seemingly unperturbed by the lack of response, and begins taking packages out of the bag.

It's Chinese carry-out, and Mello is excited, though of course he will try his best to hide it.

"So," Matt says, as he removes the last package, which is filled with egg rolls, "I didn't really know what to get you, and I didn't have much money. Hope this is all right."

"Yeah," Mello says too quickly. "This is fine. This is good, actually." He doesn't know if it's the food that's making him so agreeable, or the fact that Matt actually took the time to—

"Hold up," Mello says suddenly, fork full of chicken halfway to his mouth. "I didn't tell you that you could quit surveillance for this evening."

Matt looks at him a moment, then he sighs. "You're taking a break. Why can't I?"

"What if something crucial happens while you're not watching? That could cost me the case!"

"Mello, shut up and enjoy your food," Matt says, and he seems a little taken aback by his own words.

Mello can feel himself getting angry, because he's the one who gives orders, and it's not Matt's pride and prestige that are on the line, and what right does he have to speak to Mello like that?

But then Mello looks at him. Head low, carefully avoiding eye contact, eating quietly: Matt realizes that he's stepped over a line. And Mello thinks maybe he should stop being such an asshole and do what Matt says for once.

"Okay," he says quietly, and Matt's head shoots up and his eyes widen behind his stupid omnipresent goggles and the whole situation is kind of comical and Mello laughs. He actually laughs, and he startles himself with it, and that in and of itself is funny too, and so he continues to laugh while Matt stares at him like he's lost his mind.

Finally, the laughter dies down, and Mello smiles to himself and begins eating in earnest, and Matt continues to stare for a while before saying "What" flatly.

Mello says nothing and continues eating. "You're smiling," Matt informs him, and after a moment, Matt shakes his head and he's smiling too. "I didn't realize seeing me would put you in such a great mood. I guess I'll have to stop by more often." He grins.

"Don't flatter yourself," Mello says, but he doesn't mean it, because something is beginning to stick in his mind. Of all the memories he has, the best ones are those which contain Matt. It doesn't matter what the emotional aura behind them is; it kind of becomes irrelevant in the face of such an important detail.

Mello must be projecting some of his thoughts onto his face, because Matt says, "Hey, you look a lot better than you did the last time I saw you. You really needed this break."

"Yeah," Mello concedes. "I did."

There's a pause in which the eating resumes, and when they finish their meal, there's a bit of an awkward silence.

"Well," Matt says, but Mello interrupts him.

"Matt."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you." The words sound a little like a foreign language coming from Mello, but Matt only startles for a moment.

"No problem. I'll get back to work now."

"You—" Mello begins and Matt turns back from his walk to the door.

"You don't have to," he says. "I mean, you could stay here for a little longer. If you want."

Matt takes absolutely no time to consider this and immediately says, "Fine, but I wanna watch a horror movie, and I know they scare you, but it'll be okay because I'm here," and Mello punches him in the arm hard enough to leave a bruise but it's all right.

"This is stupid," Mello says later as they sit on the bed, watching Matt's choice of movie on pay-per-view, and Matt just laughs because Mello's face is currently tucked into his shoulder, and he's peeking out from between strands of Matt's hair.

"It'll be okay," Matt says, and because it's Matt, Mello believes him.


	2. January Wedding

**A/N: This song is actually really sweet and sentimental, so of course I chose it to write a humorous fic from, haha. This is an AU.**

**Genre: Humor**

_My heart and hers are the same/And in January we're gettin' married_

There was only one conclusion to arrive at: this was actually happening. Mello could lie to himself and say that it wasn't—which was exactly what he had been doing since he arrived at the wedding—but the scene around him was too realistic to be made up. There was a collection of tables with a few people at each one, talking or laughing or eating the candy from the bowls on the center of each table. There was a wooden floor put down under a large canopy, where couples danced and little kids floundered to the music of the live band. There were flowers everywhere, natural ones growing from the ground surrounding the church, and cut ones in bouquets on tables around the yard.

And then there was Matt, arm-in-arm with a woman who Mello had to admit was quite beautiful, but that was only because she _resembled him._ She was tall with long, blond hair, and she walked with an air of sophisticated poise.

Mello tore his eyes away and discovered that he was wearing a black tuxedo. A tiny red flower peeked out of the pocket. Mello felt an irrational hatred toward it and so he plucked it out and threw it to the ground, stomping on it a bit for good measure. No one seemed to pay him any mind.

Well, if Matt was really married, Mello was going to get completely bombed and embarrass the shit out of him. It only seemed fair.

He walked up to the bar, but the bartender was absent, so he walked around it and procured a bottle of vodka. _Yes._ Pointedly ignoring the shot glasses, he walked away and sat down at an empty table, popping the cap and drinking straight from the bottle.

Once he felt sufficiently drunk, he sauntered over to where Matt and his—_thing_—were absorbed in conversation with some elderly people. "Hey," he said, tapping Matt on the shoulder, but no one noticed him. "Matt, you terrible asshole," he tried, but Matt continued talking to the guests like he wasn't even aware of Mello's presence. "Hey, you, shitbag!" He grabbed his shoulder and shook it, but nothing happened. Mello was just about to flat-out punch him in the face when—

"Hey." There's a hand on Mello's shoulder and he flinches violently; his eyes shoot open in surprise. Matt is here, Matt is waking him up. Okay. _Wait, what?_

"It's not like you to sleep so late, and I have to leave for work now, so I thought I'd better find out if you're dead. Are you okay?"

Mello's eyes frantically search Matt's face, but he looks exactly the same and they are in their apartment and—he grabs Matt's left hand. No ring. _Okay._

"Mello—" Matt begins but Mello cuts him off.

"Matt, are you married?"

"What? What the hell, of course I'm not married."

"Good. Then I'm okay." Mello lets go of Matt's hand and shuts his eyes. "You can go to work; I'm fine."

Matt nods and moves to the door, but stops and shoots Mello a dubious look. "If you say so." And then he leaves.


	3. Head Full of Doubt, Road Full of Promise

**A/N: Hello again! This chapter has a bit of an open ending. I just wanted to give you a heads-up so you don't think that part of it got cut off or something. Hope you enjoy!**

**Genre: Mostly romance, slight angst**

_There was a dream/And one day I could see it/Like a bird in a cage I broke in and demanded that somebody free it/And there was a kid with a head full of doubt/So I'll scream 'til I die or the last of those bad thoughts are finally out_

You once told Mello you loved him, but that was a very long time ago.

It was a lengthy journey to get to that point. You were never very good with words, and expressing yourself properly has never been easy for you. It all makes sense in your head, but when you speak, it's like your mouth morphs the words into something different, no matter how hard your brain tries to convey them accurately. So you often had to show rather than tell.

For instance, the fact that you even let Mello touch your video games when absolutely no one else could probably should have tipped him off. And when he broke one, you only got kind of mad. If anyone else had done it, you would have torn off down the hallway after them, screaming obscenities and threatening their wellbeing until Roger punished you for causing a disruption.

Your words could be generic and placid—"Hey Mello, how'd you do on that test, well I'm sure you'll beat him next time"—while your heart hammered and you quickly made plans to sneak into the kitchen that night and steal whatever chocolate-based foods you could find.

Sometimes Mello's response to these actions of yours would be "Thanks," and sometimes it would be "You're the only person here I don't hate," and rarely, "You're the best, Mattie."

After a while you began to think that that was the closest you were ever going to get to hearing those stupid, perfect words that you wanted so desperately.

And then it happened.

One day—and at the time it had seemed like no special day in particular—you made up your mind. You were going to tell him how you felt, and you were going to use words. It couldn't be that difficult; you had known each other for years and you felt confident that even if he didn't feel the same way, your friendship could remain intact. It would be awkward, and strange, and terrifying, but it also had the possibility to be amazing. So you decided that it would be worth it.

You waited until you heard the footsteps and the raucous laughter. That meant that everyone was coming back in from the yard. You didn't really like being outside, opting instead to stay in your room and play video games. But Mello would always come to see you after the designated exercise time, and so you waited and tried very hard not to hyperventilate.

When he finally did arrive, he practically busted your door down, and he was later than usual. You jumped in surprise and he stared at you, a cold look filled with a mix of pain and anger.

"What happened?" you tried quietly.

And he spoke seven words. Seven words that shattered not only your planned confession, but your whole life as well.

"L is dead. I'm leaving. Goodbye, Matt."

You couldn't reply. Couldn't even say "What?" in an attempt to clarify. Had you heard him correctly?

Your eyes remained locked on his for a long moment, and if he was trying to wordlessly communicate with you, the message wasn't getting through.

He made a noise, half sigh, half grunt, and then he turned back toward the door and started walking.

He was nearly gone when you surprised yourself. "Mello." So quiet that you couldn't be sure if he had heard.

But he did, because he turned around. "Yes?"

You couldn't do it now. Not when his life had just been torn into tatters. A million questions surfaced in your mind: Where are you going, what are you going to do, will I see you again, can I come with you?

But what came out instead was, "I love you."

He didn't look shocked, he only looked conflicted, but it passed quickly from his face. "I love you too." And then he was gone, and you were left listening to his hurried footsteps tapping down the hallway.

* * *

It's raining, and you can't keep your damn cigarette lit. No matter how you configure your hands, attempting to protect it, the rain gets in and soaks it.

The whole situation you are currently in is frustrating and ridiculous. You're standing outside a cheap motel, one where each guest room has a door leading directly outside, and the architect who designed the shitty little building evidently didn't think to put some sort of awning over the doors. You walked instead of driving, so you can't even sit in your car to get out of the rain. You contemplate going inside the office and pretending to be interested in a room, but the social interaction necessary for that plan is off-putting.

The reason you are standing outside the motel, soaked and pissed off, is because that's what Mello told you to do, and you tend to listen to him. He had promised to be here 15 minutes ago, but that plan apparently fell through.

Finally, the door closest to you opens, and you immediately barrel through without even really checking that it's Mello who has opened the door and not some random motel guest. Luckily for you, it is indeed Mello, and you can tell because he instantly yells at you to go back outside and get rid of your cigarette. You comply, but only because he's annoying when he's angry, and then you return to the comforting dry-ness of the little room. And then something hits you.

"You've been in here the whole time?" you ask incredulously.

Mello nods slowly, as if confused.

"Why the hell didn't you open the door for me? I was knocking on it forever, and you're late. I was expecting you to come from outside, with the way you were talking."

Mello shrugs. "Sorry. Got distracted."

You're about to retort, but you stop yourself. He's focused on the case above all else, and you know this. You also know that he didn't have to contact you, and you're extremely grateful that he did, because there's nowhere you'd rather be than at his side. Yes, okay. Deep breath.

"Whatever. Why did you call me over here?" You've been working on the case with Mello for a while now, and he's never done this before. He met you in person at first, of course, and that was a little awkward since neither you nor he mentioned the last words you spoke to each other, but it was mostly just wonderful to see him again. This feels different somehow.

"Well," Mello says, and then he seems to lose his train of thought, and his gaze moves from your eyes to your clothes. "Do you wanna change?" he asks suddenly. "You're all wet."

"Well, we can certainly count on your powers of deduction to help solve this case," you say, and he lunges at you like he's about to punch you but instead he shoves you backwards onto the bed and then he stands there at its edge, like he doesn't really know what he just did.

You're blushing and you are well aware of it. You hope your goggles will come in handy and at least partially conceal this fact, but if Mello has noticed he doesn't say anything about it.

Instead he says, "Matt," softly, and you feel compelled to sit up in order to get a better look at him, because his eyes are creating this expression you don't think you've ever seen on him before, one of hurt and regret and hope.

Lack of social skills aside, you've always been pretty good at reading people, and Mello is your best friend and you'd like to think that you can read him better than anyone else.

So you decide to risk it, because you've been thinking about it since he left and because he's finally back in your life and because you missed him _so damn much_.

You once told Mello you loved him, but that was a very long time ago. Now you're going to do it again.


End file.
